


He Wants My Heart, He Wants My Soul

by outoftheashes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood Kink, But they're not explicit and in the a/n, Demon Castiel, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gags, Human Meg Masters, Kinktober 2017, Loss of Virginity, MegCas Big Bang 2017, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Castiel, Psychological Torture, Sadism, Sadist Castiel, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Experimentation, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/pseuds/outoftheashes
Summary: Eighteen-year-old Meg loses her family in a car accident and decides what's dead shouldn't stay dead - she summons a demon in order to get her family back.Turns out Castiel isn't your average crossroads demon and requires more than a kiss to seal the deal.Once her family is resurrected tensions run high and ultimately Meg decides to move out. She focuses her attention on school and friends - some friends are more dangerous than others. By day she's a student making the best of a less than ideal situation. She doesn't plan on letting her ten years go to waste. By night she dreams about a certain wild-haired demon using her in various ways. Eventually, she drops out of Stanford. Her dreams don't stop though and she takes measures to keep the demon out of her head and heart.It's not working.





	He Wants My Heart, He Wants My Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mayalaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen/gifts), [Wearingdeantoprom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wearingdeantoprom/gifts).



> Written for the MegCas BB and kinktober day 11: Sadism/Masochism, Orgasm Denial, Gags. 
> 
> There are some mentioned/implied relationships besides what I included in the tags. They are: Sam/Jess, Meg/Abaddon, Meg/Cassie. There's also a couple friendships that could be seen as relationships if you so desire, like Sam and Brady or Sam and Cas. 
> 
> Thank you to my talented artist, kuwlshadow! Their art deserves all the love. 
> 
> If I missed a tag you think should be added (especially if it could be triggering for people) please let me know. Also, just as a warning, Cas isn't really a good guy in this fic. I love him a lot and it is not my intention to bash him, I swear. I just like exploring semi-dark!Cas sometimes. The attempted rape/non-con is by Alastair, by the way. There's also a scene with Sam that is a bit problematic.

 

Meg briskly walks to the center of the crossroads and once sure she measured correctly, she begins to dig into the soil with a shovel. After the hole is deep enough she places an old box into the ground. The box contains a picture of her, graveyard dirt, a black cat bone, and yarrow.

As soon as she scrapes the dirt over the box with her hands she hears a noise behind her, making the hair on the nape of her neck stand on end.

“Nice ass.”

_Fuck._

The checkered miniskirt she’s wearing is covered in blood. A good portion of it isn’t even hers - there’d been no time to change clothes. She needs help _now_. Mere hours is all it took for her to become unhinged and move on to desperate measures. Meg turns her head and barely suppresses a gasp - the demon behind her is painfully beautiful.

_It’s just the vessel. You can’t see his true face, you idiot._

“Holy shit. That was fast.” She ignores his comment because what the hell is she supposed to say to that? Thank you? Now isn’t the time to waste her breath on things that don’t matter.

She needs to fix what’s been done.

The demon fucking _leers_ at her. “You’ve never seen a demon before, have you?”

Meg realizes she's still kneeling stupidly on the ground and stands up, brushing the dirt off her legs and raises her chin. “No. I'd like to finish up this deal in my car, by the way. More privacy.”

The demon raises a brow. “I don’t appreciate your attitude. It’s a real buzzkill,” he says, even as he obeys and follows her to her car.

If she wasn't so fucking desperate she'd cuss him out, spit in his face. It doesn't matter that her body is reacting to him - he's a fucking _demon_ and she needs to remember that.

 

* * *

 

 

“We need to fuck.”

They’re in the backseat of her beat-up Toyota and Meg chokes in surprise and scoots away until she’s pressed against the door. “I thought we needed to kiss!”

“Um, no, you have that wrong. We need to fuck to seal the deal,” the demon says, eyes dancing with delight. “Are you scared?”

“Fuck you,” Meg says, bristling. He must be a high-powered demon, which is odd. From all the research she’s done working the crossroads is entry-level work for demons.

“That was the plan, yes.” The demon leans in closer, hot breath tickling Meg's ear and she cringes. “Mm. You're _trembling._ And my name is Cas in case you were wondering.”

Meg takes a deep, cleansing breath. “I'm about to sell my soul, which means in ten years time I'll be burning in Hell. What were you expecting, me to jump for joy?”

The demon reaches out and tweaks her nipples, making Meg yelp. He seems unfazed by the dried blood caked onto her clothes, which yeah, makes sense given the demon’s day job. “ _Oh._ Listen to you. You'll be fun to play with. And look at these cute little breasts you’ve got. So _perky._ ”

“Ah!” Meg slaps his hands away. “What the fuck? Can’t you warn a girl before you start with the groping?”

“I'm tired of waiting,” Cas says, voice a low rumble as he drags her closer to him by her hips, pulling her onto his lap with no trouble at all. “Give it up. Unless you no longer wish to make a deal? This is the time to say no.”

She could tell him off and wait a few hours in hopes of summoning a different demon that only needs a kiss to seal the deal - but she doesn’t want to.

“N-no, I. I need this. I need you to bring my family back from the dead. T-there was… there was a car accident and it killed all of them,” she pauses, voice breaking. “I can’t go on without them.”

“How many?”

“Two,” she whispers. “My sister Ruby and our mother Lilith.”

“Hmm. That’ll cost you extra.”

“How much extra?” She hates how desperate she sounds. “Didn’t read anything in the fine print on two souls costing extra when I was researching this shit.”

“I get to fuck you all night. And when your contract is up I might stop by and see you down in Hell, too.”

“W-wait!” Meg squirms, heart jumping in her throat.

“What now?”

“Be, uh, gentle okay?”

Cas stares deep into her eyes and for a terrifying moment she's afraid he's figured out her secret. Although, honestly, she probably _should_ suck it up and tell him. He probably won't take her virginity into consideration but on the off chance he might it's worth the shot, right?

“You're the most amusing human I’ve met all day,” the demon says, barking out a laugh. “No. I don't think I will.”

Meg bites her lip to keep from begging. He’s made his choice. There's likely nothing she can say to change his mind. All she can do is stay as quiet as possible, not give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

“Aren't you interested in what my name means?” Cas asks, snaking a hand between Meg’s legs and forcefully tugs on her panties until they tear.

“No,” Meg grits out, shivering on top of him.

Cas tsks, circling a finger around the opening of her cunt. “You have no manners. For that I think you deserve to be punished.”

Meg whimpers, she can't fucking help it. “O-oh, G-god-”

“Close enough,” he replies, his grin shark-like as he wiggles a finger inside of her. Then he pauses, giving Meg a knowing look. “You don't do this often.”

It's not a question.

_Fuck._

“What are you talking about? Of course -”

“Do _not_ even think of lying to me,” Cas hisses, shoving in another finger and twisting it cruelly. “Or you'll regret it.”

Meg keens. “O-okay! Okay, I’m sorry! _F-fuck._ I… I’m a virgin,” she finishes on a whisper, humiliated.

“Really?” Cas is _excited._ There’s no other word for it. His blue eyes turn yellow as he stares at her. “ _I’m_ your first?”

“Y-yes.”

“Virgins are my favorite.” Cas’s cock jumps happily and Meg groans, squirming on top of him until he gives her a warning growl.

“Why’s that?” It’s so fucking hard to stay still when she feels so _full_ after only two fingers. How the hell is she supposed to fit a cock inside her?

“Because,” he says, breath hot against her neck. A third finger rubs her clit in teasing circles. “I love taking that innocence and corrupting it. Destroying it. I love watching a virgin’s face when I give them my cock.”

Meg quivers, cunt clenching around Cas’s fingers. She’s wet, aching and _hates it_ , hates that her body seems to be enjoying this enough to respond to any stimulation Cas gives it. “I’m bored,” she lies, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible. “Hurry up. I’ve got things to do.”

Cas shakes his head then bites her roughly. “Tonight you’re all mine. I’ll take as long as I damn well please.”

Thankfully though he _does_ pick up the pace, pushing in another finger and making Meg whimper in response. “ _Hurts_.”

“What did I tell you about lying?” Cas asks, tone dark and dangerous.

“It _does_ hurt, you idiot! I’m _not_ lying!”

Cas hums, thinking through this tidbit of information, before thrusting his fingers in and out, not bothering to move slowly. “You’re wet,” he says. “Perhaps you enjoy pain.”

She wants to argue, wants to tell him how _wrong_ he is but her mouth won’t say the words. She keeps quiet instead, worried that if she pisses him off he’ll delay the inevitable even longer.

Shame tinges her cheeks at the noise her cunt makes when Cas pulls his fingers out of her body. She sounds so _sloppy_ and _open_ for him. It’s gross.

“Take out my cock,” Cas orders, squeezing her breasts. “And sit on it.”

“Well, aren’t _you_ fucking lazy,” Meg grumbles, but she obeys the demon and pulls his dick out of his pants. She swallows in surprise when she gets a good look at it. “There’s no way it’s going to fit.”

“Yes, it will. And it’s going inside you _now_ one way or another. Either by your own hand or mine. Might as well stop crying about it and make your choice. But be warned - if you leave it up to me I’ll make it hurt far more than it needs to. I’ll make you _scream_ and lick the tears from your cheeks.”

Meg gulps, weighing her options. Although it doesn’t _feel_ like much of one. She can’t turn back now. She _needs_ this deal. As much as she hates the idea of giving this demon her virginity any other choice ends with her family remaining dead.

While she can’t be sure how much time passes before she grabs Cas’s cock and slowly lowers herself down on it with a pained whine she figures it can’t be long because the demon  had made no move to do it for her. He stares at her while his dick fills her up, looking utterly smug and satisfied - enough that she kinda wants to punch him.

But before she can go through with that idea he’s rubbing at her clit again and all logic flees her mind. For a while she doesn’t think she’s going to come. It feels good, yeah, but the pain is in the forefront of her thoughts.

That is, it is until his free hand rests on her throat.

“W-what are you doing?” she manages to gasp out.

Cas rolls his eyes and _squeezes_ , which shuts her right up. Not just because of the pressure, either. She kinda _likes_ it. The dizzy, floaty feeling in her head, the way the edges of her vision blurs each time his hand tightens.

“Are you gonna come?” he whispers against her skin, somehow making the word sound _filthy._ “Come, human. Make a mess on my cock.”

Before she can figure out if she even _wants_ to her cunt clenches around him and she gives the smug bastard exactly what he wants.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg gives him a blowjob - it’s terrible.

He’s _hung._ Or maybe he’s not. He’d taken her virginity, after all. It’s not like she’s experienced when it comes to cocks. Not like she knows how to give _anyone_ pleasure.

All she’d been able to fit into her mouth was half of his cock and if the noises he’d been making were any indication he’d been frustrated by that fact, but she’d made it oh so clear that if he’d given her more she would have fucking bit his damn cock off and surprisingly enough he didn’t force the issue.

No, he had other holes to play with and didn’t spend his time complaining.

Turns out Cas wasn’t exaggerating about how long he’d keep Meg. He fucks her until dawn, until her whole body is covered in sweat, until her cunt and asshole are full of come, not just her mouth.

She _hurts_ but it’s a good hurt. A well-used kind of hurt. If the sex hadn’t damned her to Hell, if it hadn’t been the last resort, it might have been really fucking nice.

As it was, she’s glad the demon is dressing.

Meg can’t help it - she’s not known for having patience.

“Are they back?”

Cas raises an eyebrow as he buttons his shirt, not bothering to fix his wild hair. “Kiss me and it’ll be done.”

She squints at him but doesn’t bother arguing. Meg leans in and places a kiss on his mouth, trying not to shudder when she feels his hot tongue caressing her lips. After a couple brief seconds she pulls away. “There.”

The demon’s eyes flash with annoyance but he doesn’t chase her when she backs away.

“See you in ten years.”

* * *

 

 

Meg’s family is _alive._ They’re completely well and _whole._

Unfortunately, they don’t accept her story. They don’t accept that someone took their car joyriding and crashed it. They don’t accept that they weren’t anywhere near said car. They don’t accept that they weren’t inside it when it crashed.

Somehow they _know_ \- and they’re not grateful.

“You made a deal,” Lilith hisses. “How could you make a deal after everything I taught you? What’s dead should stay dead!”

Meg doesn’t even last three months before she moves out of her mother’s house and in with a few girls she’d recently befriended - Abby, Anna, Cassie and, Jess. All of them attend Stanford and for the first time in Meg’s short life, she feels like she truly belongs.

Briefly, she forgets she even _made_ that damn deal to begin with. She’s too busy with school and exploring her sexuality. Cassie and Abby are particularly fun to play with but she can’t seem to settle on any one person for long.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg gets to know Sam Winchester in the library, the fucking nerd. They’re both studying, of course, but the difference is Sam is the kind of guy that’s already well prepared - Meg waits until the last second without fail before cramming everything she can in one long session or two.

“How are you not losing your shit?” Sam asks, shaking his head.

Meg shrugs. “Might sound dramatic but I kinda feel like the worst possible things that could ever happen to me already have. Procrastinating on my homework is small potatoes in comparison. Plus, honestly Sam, I’m not even sure I’m studying the right fucking major to begin with.”

“Which is what?” Sam asks curiously.

“History,” Meg replies, sounding disgusted even to her own ears.

Sam laughs. “Your face,” he finally gasps out.

Meg smacks him. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sam bites his lip, sobering up. “Why not study something that actually interests you?”

“Huh. Good question. I dunno, I guess I was taught to be more practical than that. I’ve always been good at history.”

“Life’s too short to waste it on doing what’s expected of us,” Sam says, looking even more serious now.

“You talking from experience, Sammy boy?”

Sam winces. “Yeah, you could say that. My Dad has always pushed for me to enter the family business. So, when I decided I needed more than that, that I couldn’t follow in my Dad and brother’s footsteps I was told not to come around anymore, ya know? I chose to stick with this decision and sometimes I feel a little guilty because _fuck_ do I miss them. But if I had to do it over? I’d still come to Stanford. I don’t wanna be in the family business. I want _this_. So, yeah. I firmly believe that if you have a dream you should stick with it. Don’t put everyone else’s happiness before your own and don’t fucking settle for good enough. Keep going, keep fighting.”

“Some days it’s hard enough to get out of the fucking bed let alone go to class,” she admits allowed for the first time. The girls might have a sneaking suspicion that she’s depressed but there hasn’t yet been an intervention so she must be holding her head above water okay.

Sam places a warm hand on top of hers. “I get it,” he whispers back and this time there’s no need for a big speech, she can just _tell_ \- he does know.

It helps.

Turns out Sam Winchester’s dick is nearly as beautiful as the rest of him. She jacks him right there at the table in the library - both of them need a distraction from the direction their conversation was headed, dammit - and when he offers to get her off too she invites him back to her room.

They decide to be friends with benefits instead of anything serious. Sam’s fun to talk to and his dick _really_ hits the spot but she quickly learns she’s not the relationship type.

As much as she hates herself for it she can’t help but compare everyone to her wild and fucked up first time. Apparently, being on the edge, liking it but also not, really did it for her. ‘Normal’ sex isn’t exactly exciting.

The demon ruined her.

Sam _tries_ to give Meg what she needs but the boy prefers enthusiastic consent. While certainly not vanilla he is uncomfortable with pushing her to the edge of what she can handle.

Not long after that Sam meets Jess and it’s all moot anyway. He’s infatuated, totally swept off his feet.

Until he’s not. There’s another guy - Brady, she believes that’s his name - who worms his way into Sam’s life and Sam starts changing. The sweet smiles are gone. They’ve been replaced by something far more predatory. His drive to ace all his classes are gone - now he’s disturbingly similar to Meg.

No. It’s more than that, he’s worse.

He drinks harder. Plays harder. _Fucks_ harder.

There’s a messy break-up between Sam and Jess and it’s not long before he comes sniffing around Meg again.

“We should fuck,” Sam rasps one night after a party a mutual friend of theirs had hosted winds down, eyes unnaturally dark.

It sounds more like an expectation than an offer.

“I don’t think so,” Meg replies, putting space between them on the couch that they’re both sitting on.

“Jess was crazy about you. Fuck, I thought _you_ were crazy about _her_. What changed?” she demands, angrier than she realized.

“C’mon,” Sam urges, crowding her. It’s as if he hadn’t heard a single fucking word she’d said. “I’ll do all that kinky shit I was too afraid to try before.”

Meg shakes her head. “Back off, Sam. I mean it.”

“Liar.” Sam looks way too smug. It’s even worse because he’s not wrong.

“What the fuck _happened_ to you? Whoever you are, you’re _not_ Sam,” she says, and she can feel the truth of that statement down to her bones. “You were so different before Brady.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says, laughing. There’s a dark quality to the sound that has her on edge.

“Try me.”

“Nope.” Sam smirks at her and gracefully stands up, eyes scanning the few people left in the living room. “Night, Meg.”

 

* * *

 

 

Her grades sink a bit. She’s not in danger of failing yet but she’s been pulled aside by enough friends she knows it could easily spiral out of control. This becomes even more apparent when her professors give her what she can only describe as concerned looks.

It wouldn’t be so fucking hard to concentrate on her schoolwork if she could get a decent night of sleep. That’s what she keeps telling herself.

Her dreams are painfully vivid. Moans of arousal cause her to wake - moans that come from _her_ mouth. Her dreams are filled with wild hair and even wilder eyes. They’re full of a demon she wishes she could forget but his name is burned into her memory. His name has left her mouth on more than one occasion. She isn’t happy about it but it doesn’t make it less true.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Cas taunts as he sinks into her cunt, biting into the flesh of her throat. Marking her. _Claiming_ her in a way no one else ever could. “I turn you on too much.”

Even in her dreams she’s ashamed of her desire for Cas. There’s only so much she can admit to.

“Fuck you,” she growls, putting as much effort into the words as she can.

“So original,” he replies, laughing in her face. “Truly. I’m impressed with your abilities. You’ve cut me deep.”

“Oh my god! Just stop talking,” she snaps, trying to hide the fact that she’s about to come.

“No. There’s something I need to say before you come.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” she asks, annoyed.

“Stay away from Sam.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Yeah, that never worked when my mom said it and it sure as hell isn’t going to work now,” she says, even though she was already planning on cutting contact with Sam.

“If you disobey me I don’t think you’ll enjoy what happens after.”

“I don’t belong to anyone, least of all you. Get the fuck used to it.”

“Fine. You don’t get to come then.”

And with that he pulls out of her and vanishes, leaving her alone and aching to be filled, aching to _come_.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a year since she cut contact with Sam and things haven’t improved for herself or for him. He’s even more reckless and last she heard, could end up losing his scholarships.  

One drunken night she texts him _I miss who you used to be_. It’s impulsive and he probably won’t give a fuck but what’s done is done.

She honestly doesn’t expect a reply but she gets one.

_You’re kidding, right?_

Meg chokes back tears. What is she even doing here? Time is running out. Soon she’ll be in Hell - she shouldn’t waste the years she has left fucking around in school.

_Not really, no. You’re fucking up your life. I’m scared for you - scared for us._

A minute passes before her phone buzzes, alerting her to another message.

_Don’t be scared. I’ve got everything under control. Things couldn’t be better. Well, that’s not entirely true. You could make it even better. I’m still interested in picking up where we left off._

She shakes her head in disbelief. This is _almost_ enough to make her change her mind but not for the reason Sam would want. Meg can’t help but wonder what’s gonna come first - Sam getting kicked out of school due to his grades or sexual assault.

Truth be told, Meg’s grades are on the rocks as well, which is yet another reason why leaving is so tempting. Might as well run _before_ they tell her to get the fuck out.

_I definitely didn’t miss this. You’re way too full of yourself for me to be remotely into you, Sam. Honestly, you need help._

She’s not sure why she’s even bothering. It’s not like any of this is going to get through to him. Meg shivers and pulls her blanket tighter around her as she wastes yet even more time, seeing if he’ll say anything else.

He does.

_You’re missing out. You should see the shit I can do._

Meg’s nose scrunches up.

_What does that even mean?_

A few heartbeats later.

_Let me come by and I’ll show you._

Meg almost throws her phone at the opposite wall.

_You’re pathetic._

_Love you too, Meg._

She rolls her eyes and deletes all Sam Winchester’s number. 

 

* * *

 

 

Meg spends every free minute of the next few days with Jess, Abby, Anna, and Cassie. She needs it or else she might break down and cry. Meg fucking _hates_ crying, hates that mushy shit. Usually, she saves it for when she’s drunk off her ass but right now she doesn’t have that excuse.

As expected a couple of them pry, wanting to talk her out of leaving. “Why not just ask for an extension?” Cassie offers.

“Or talk to a counselor. That’s what I did,” Anna adds.

Meg waves it off. “I’ve made up my mind. Sorry, but I really don’t wanna keep talking about it.”

Thankfully, they listen. Hell, they do more than listen. They help her pack.

Jess offers to help her officially withdraw from school. She insists there’s a right and wrong way to go about it. “You shouldn’t just stop showing up for classes. A disappearing act without talking to your professors first could haunt you for years to come.”

“Fine,” Meg says even though there’s no point. Because pushing away the help will only lead to more questions.

 

* * *

 

Meg’s mom cries when she shows up on her doorstep. “My baby,” she says, overcome with emotion as she pulls Meg against her chest. “Come in.”

It’s so odd. Bizarre even. The years she’d been gone she’d held onto their last conversation, thinking Mom basically hated her -

And here she was accepting her. Welcoming her home like the prodigal daughter.

“I won’t be here long,” Meg warns. “Just long enough to find a job, save up some cash and get a roommate somewhere. I can stay, right?”

“That’s fine, sweetie. I’m just happy you came by at all.”

It’s kind of good to be home.

 

* * *

 

 

“What are you trying to prove?” dream-Cas asks as he fucks a beer bottle into her used pussy viciously from behind. He’s got her pinned against the pool table and there’s something wet trailing down her legs. She’s not sure if it’s come, blood or both. “By offering your cunt to anyone who looks at you twice… do you think it will infuriate me to the point that I let you go? Is that what you want?”

It took her slightly longer than anticipated but she’s got a job - she’s a bartender now. It’s not her dream job by any means, but it’ll do. Soon she’ll have enough to move out but Mom assures Meg that there’s no rush.

And apparently dream-Cas isn’t happy about all the flirting she’s been doing.

_Well, that’s just too damned bad._

“I’m my own person and I don’t need to defend my behavior to you,” Meg snaps in return, even as her cunt squeezes around the bottle and she meets the next brutal thrust. “I happen to like sex - deal with it.”

“You’ll always leave your encounters unfulfilled, you must know that.” He yanks the bottle out, fast. Too fast. Then he’s turning her around and manhandling her _on top_ of the pool table so her hips are hanging off the edge, cunt on display. He bites at her soft, inner thighs before teasing at her clit. “Soon enough you’ll admit it’s not just your soul that’s mine.”

She wakes up before dream-Cas tells her anything else and she punches her pillow in frustration.

 

* * *

 

 

It makes sense to pick up where she left off in college and find guys - and girls - to fuck after her shifts are over at the local bar she works at. Age doesn’t matter much to her. Sometimes they’re young like her. Soft and baby-faced. Sometimes they’re closer to thirty. Older but not _old,_ just experienced.

After she fucks and gets fucked to her heart’s content she lazily smokes a joint - or a cigarette if she’s feeling particularly naughty. She’s unlikely to live long enough to suffer the consequences of smoking cancer sticks, so why the hell not, right?

Plus, cigarettes taste the best when you’ve got come dripping down your thighs and out of your holes. It tastes better when you’ve got a layer of sweat coating your skin from a particularly athletic fuck.

Usually she’s able to keep her thoughts on the person she’s fucking while she’s fucking them - but afterwards her mind wanders.

She still dreams of the demon almost every night. And the dreams feel so fucking _real._ When she wakes up she tastes him, feels him, wakes up with bruises she doesn’t remember being there before going to sleep.

You’d think Cas would be busy with demon deals but now she isn’t so sure. Could demons send you vivid dreams? Could they _enter_ them?

One night in particular she hangs the Hamsa over her bedroom window.  It isn’t used just to provide defense against the evil eye. There are many variations to this symbol, this she knows, but her mother always told her it could be as specific as and personalized as she wanted it to be. She places her hand on top of it and closes her eyes.

_Please strengthen me. Please keep Cas away._

She doesn’t know who or what she’s praying to. Doesn’t know how she could possibly be heard. She’s never been much for prayer, even as a small child, so this is a good indicator that she’s lost her grip on reality to begin with.

But she grabs the black tourmaline necklace and puts that on next anyway, even though she should be sleeping. It’s yet another form of protection and right now she needs anything she can get her hands on.

Meg is drawn to Mars but leaves it alone - she’s aware it is not a glyph known for “white light” and her mom would be mad as hell if she did anything with it. While she _knows_ she needs to not let Cas in she’s not sure she can hex him, not to the level that Mars would require.

Thank fuck Mom is a witch.

She knows the basics of the spell she wants and tries her hand at a warding and protection spell in hopes of keeping Cas at bay if he is, in fact, as obsessed with her as she seems to be with him.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg takes it a step further - she wants tattoos.

She does her research, of course. Meg might be desperate but she’s not stupid. If she’s going to decorate her skin with something as permanent as a tattoo she damn well better make sure the artist knows what the fuck they’re doing. It takes her a few hours to decide on a shop - but she finally calls and sets up an appointment for her next day off - four long days away.

It’s much bigger in person than she anticipated. She’s used to strolling by hole-in-the-wall tattoo shops, not classy buildings that take up 10,000 square feet and has exotic hardwood flooring.

“Can I help you?” a big bear of a man at the front desk asks.

She’s seen his picture - he’s Benny Lafitte, owner of the shop and hopefully the man who’d be tattooing her.

Meg licks her dry lips. “I’m here for my two o’clock appointment.”

Benny checks the time, an adorable frown between his brows. “You’re early, but lucky for you I had a no-show so we can start now if you’d like.”

“I would.”

“Do you know what you want?”

“Lots of things. I plan on making several trips back here if you’re up to the task. Want at least one full sleeve, possibly two.”

Benny raises a brow. “That’ll cost ya. I’m sure you already realized that, though.”

Meg nods, trying to hide her impatience. “I did my research. You guys are the best. I know I’m paying for top quality tattoos so of course it’s not cheap. You get what you pay for.”

Benny _beams_ at her. “I like you already. So, what is it you’d like to start off with, Meg?”

Meg worries her lip between her teeth. “I thought we could start with a devil’s trap.”

“Do you have a picture for reference? Can’t say I’ve heard of one of those before.”

“Yeah, right here,” Meg says, holding up her phone. “It’s supposed to protect against all sorcery and evil.”

“Ah, well. That’s somethin’.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic about this tattoo, Benny,” she teases, putting her phone away. “You’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, darlin’, I apologize.”

He talks in a slow, unhurried manner but it’s not annoying at all. In fact, Meg finds herself enjoying his accent quite a lot. He’s got a voice that belongs on a radio talk show.

“Sure you do.” She can’t help but grin at him. He seems like a genuinely good guy. Meg decides that while she’s here with Benny she’ll pretend she’s fucking _normal_ , that she doesn’t potentially have a demon stalker, that she isn’t a dead woman walking, on the fast track to Hell.

“I’ll take good care of you. Just give me a bit to sketch this thing. Where do you want it placed?”

Meg gestures at her biceps. “Either arm works, but I’m guessing the upper arm would be best.”

Benny nods in approval. “I can work with that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Meg isn’t expecting the tattoo to turn her on but, in hindsight, she probably should have. The pain gets her close and it’s mortifying. She doesn’t fucking know Benny. He seems nice enough but that doesn’t mean she wants him to see her come. So she thinks about hellhounds tearing into delicate flesh to push away her orgasm. It helps.

“You okay?” Benny asks afterward as she admires his handiwork in his full-length mirror.

“I am now,” Meg says and it surprises her that it’s kind of true. She’s _acting_ instead of simply _reacting_ . She’s resisting the urge to simply give in to the demon and she’s _fighting_. At least now he can’t mock her, he can’t tell her she just laid there and took it.

Benny raises a brow at her, probably confused and tempted to ask for clarification but he says nothing and she doesn’t give it to him.

She _does,_ however, schedule a follow-up appointment for a week out.

The eye of Horus and a solar cross were next on the list to become permanent art on Meg’s skin. Supposedly the cross evokes the power of the Sun God or All-Father, as well as the guardians of the Four Directions.

_No. No. Not supposedly. Intention matters. This needs to be real._

 

* * *

 

 

At first, she thinks maybe she’s done it. She doesn’t dream of the demon. Maybe she’s finally free of him. But it doesn’t last and she has to wonder if he was fucking with her on purpose, allowing her to grasp on to hope only to tear it away.

Dream-Cas shakes his head, mocking her. Then he trails his fingers along the new ink on her arm. She shivers in response. “Did you really think these would keep me away, Meg?”

“Well, generally yeah. At least the devil’s trap -”

Cas’s vivid blue eyes flash yellow. “You’ll have to try harder if you _really_ want me gone. But I know what you won’t admit to yourself.”

She bares her teeth at him. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“You don’t _want_ any of this to work. You _want_ me to stay,” dream-Cas says smugly, reaching between her thighs to slip deep inside her.

She fucks herself on his fingers, disgusted with herself because maybe he’s right. If she _really_ wanted him gone wouldn’t she ignore white witch methods and curse his ass?

Cas keeps going until she’s about to fall over the edge and pulls his hand away, making her punch his arm. “Asshole! At least let me come!”

“Hmm.” Cas reaches up to rub her own slick on her lips. “I don’t think so. I think I’ll deny you any hope of letting you orgasm until it’s all you can think about.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Were you expecting anything less? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Whatever,” Meg growls, turning away from him. “You’re just a figment of my imagination anyway. No point talking to you.”

Dream-Cas stiffens behind her, heat radiating off him. With any luck she hit a nerve.

Good.

“Let’s say you’re right and I’m not really here… what exactly does that say about _you,_ Meg? You still want me.”

The way he says her name… fuck. Her pussy clenches in hope, in _need_ -

But then her eyes are snapping open and she’s left with an aching cunt. She’s alone, a part of her - larger than she cares to admit - wishes that she wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg continues to have a rocky relationship with her mom and sister and things don’t seem like they’ll ever change for the better until she has one year left. One goddamn year.

“Can we stop fighting?” Meg finally Ruby one night on the phone during a yelling match. “I don’t have a lot of time left. I have a hard time believing this is how you want to spend it.”

That’s the turning point.

Now, every two weeks or so, Meg spends the weekend with her family. Usually, the visits are full of nostalgia - but sometimes it’s more along the lines of pain and heartache.

Their very last weekend together is the worst, though.

The three of them cuddle in bed together even though they’re all grown ass women, Meg in the middle. This is the last time she’d be able to speak with her loved ones. The last time they could hold each other. The last time she can tell them they’re loved. Each minute that slips by is a painful reminder that it’s one less that she has and it makes her hold them even tighter, even though she’s never been a cuddler.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid,” she warns them. “I want you to have happy lives or so help me I’ll drag myself out of Hell and come haunt your asses.”

“Completely unfair to expect that out of us considering what you did,” Ruby points out. “Maybe I wanna sell my soul to save you, huh? It’s not your call.”

“I make no promises,” Mom says, voice wavering.  

This is probably as good as she’s gonna get.

“You guys can’t leave each other,” Meg replies firmly. “No matter how much it hurts you gotta lean on each other and not isolate. Can you guys do that for me?”

“I feel so guilty,” their mother whispers. “This isn’t right.”

“Yeah, you made that clear from the beginning but I did what I had to do. So please make the most out of the time you have left, okay? Don’t waste it. Be happy, dammit.”

“Maybe we should talk about something else,” Ruby chokes out. “Because I can’t see myself doing anything but argue this with you and I don’t want our last words to go down that way.”

Meg can appreciate that.

Too soon Meg’s alarm goes off, letting her know it’s the end.

“I gotta go. I don’t want you guys to see the hellhounds take me.”

“What? No! I.. I don’t want you to die alone,” Mom sobs, new tears falling.

“That’s beyond fucked up,” her sister adds.

Meg shifts on the bed, trying to escape the embrace of her loved ones. “It is what it is. And I really don’t want you to see it. Hellhound deaths are brutal.”

“All the more reason for emotional support.”

“I said no.”

Ruby and Mom finally give in - they don’t have much of a choice - and hug Meg one final time before she rolls off the bed, grabs her shit, and leaves.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg heads to the woods near her home because she’d cut it too close to go anywhere else. She’d been tempted to use goofer dust to keep the hellhounds at bay, knowing they couldn’t cross it, but that just seems like a terrible idea now. Why delay the inevitable? Why hole up in her home or a motel room somewhere and make a huge mess people would need to clean up when she could die out in the middle of nature instead? It seems to Meg like this way will cause less emotional turmoil, but hey, she could be wrong.

She flinches at the slightest noise, pacing around the edge of the woods, rock-salt shotgun in hand. Her mother isn’t a hunter but she’s known her fair share and one was kind enough to leave one of these bad babies behind. So, of course, her mom found it fitting to hand it off to Meg for this final leg of her journey - the final countdown.

Meg plans to go down swinging. Maybe kill a hellhound or two in the process. She hears a twig snap and fires a shot but knows she misses her target because seconds later she’s on the ground, shotgun knocked out of reach. She scrabbles backward, away from the sudden growling and toward the fallen shotgun. Invisible sharp claws dig into her thigh and Meg cries out as her fingertips brush the shotgun. Almost. Almost there.

Her world goes dark before she’s able to fire another round.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg’s naked. What’s worse, she can’t see. And she’s restrained to a goddamn table, uncomfortable metal pressed against her back.

_Lovely._

She struggles despite the knowledge that she’s fucked because there’s no way she’ll just take it. No way she’ll make it easy for the demons or herself. It simply isn’t in her DNA.

She feels eyes on her but maybe it’s just paranoia. Maybe it’s hope. _Desire._

After all, she dreamed of Cas until the very end. Of course her mind would play tricks on her now, make her think he’d give a shit and show up.

Meg jerks wildly when a man starts singing. “Heaven, I’m in Heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...”

The voice is unfamiliar. It doesn’t belong to Cas. Disappointment fills her at the realization. She’d rather have the devil she knows than a brand new one.

“Why am I strapped to a _fucking_ table? I was never given a heads up about this.”

“I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out dancing cheek to cheek.”

“Bastard. Are you seriously not gonna answer me?” She _knows_ he’s grinning at her.

He laughs, delighted.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m being awfully rude. Laughing when you’re in this emotional state.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Alastair. Head torturer. And you’re strapped to a table because I’d like to examine you before the torture begins.”

 _Examine_ her. For some reason that word feels far dirtier and terrifying than the word ‘torture’.

“Why am I wearing a blindfold? Wouldn’t you rather I see all your scary toys?”

“Eventually. Right now the fear of the unknown is consuming you. I can smell it. It’s delicious.”

“You’re a fucking horror movie cliche,” Meg spits, even though she’s fucking terrified. It wouldn’t be the first time her mouth had gotten her in trouble.

“That was the wrong thing to say. It’s all right, though. You’ll learn. They always do.”

Alastair starts singing again and Meg’s stomach tightens in dread.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll go easy on you. For now. Relish the moment. No need for instant gratification,” Alastair says.

Meg frowns. “What kind of gratification are we talking about, exactly? I don’t think I’m interested.”

Alastair chuckles. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t be, fresh meat that you are. But I’ll wake up that desire inside of you, the desire to _hurt_ someone else.”

“No. I would never.”

“They all say that in the beginning. But I can tell you from personal experience that, in the end, it never matters. Eventually, you will beg to torture another soul. You’ll even learn to enjoy it.”

She wants to keep arguing, but why waste her breath? So Meg keeps her mouth firmly closed, glaring at him.

He grabs metal pliers that are red-hot, crowding into her space. “These should make you sing me a pretty song, little bird.”

“Really? Pliers? Not very original - ah! Ah!”

As unoriginal as they seem, they do their job. The way he slowly pries each nail from the nail bed before tearing them out of her fingers completely has her screaming from the very first one.

 

* * *

 

 

“No! Please! S-stop!” Meg’s pleas are weak. She’s so fucking tired and just wants to sleep. Who knew you could get tired in Hell?

“You don’t get it do you?”

“I can’t do this…”

“So take up the knife and torture a fellow damned soul.”

Meg sobs. Perhaps she’ll reach that breaking point sooner than she realized, but not yet.

“Until you say yes - if I want to boil you, I’ll do it. If I want to break your bones and scrape out your marrow for the hellhounds, I’ll do it. If I want to crush or disfigure your pretty face, I’ll do it. If I want to flay you wide open, I’ll do it. Whatever I want, I can have. I don’t think you quite understand the mess you’ve put yourself in. I’m here to teach you that, one torture method at a time. You willingly signed your soul away so you could be tortured by _me_ until you turn. Tell me, was it worth it, my little songbird?”

“No,” Meg sobs. She’s pretty sure this is the answer he wants to hear. She doesn’t think it will get her any relief, but on the off-chance it does, she can’t help but say what she thinks he may want to hear.

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t surprise her that Cas likes to watch. He has to get off on her pain so of course he hangs around in the shadows. Does he think he’s being sneaky or is he purposely standing in places that she’ll notice him?

What surprises her is he hasn’t joined in on the fun. Why hold back when he took her all those years ago? Does he not find her appealing enough to fuck now that she’d rather have him than Alastair?

He finally moves out of the shadows on one of the occasions Alastair made her wear a blindfold again.

“No more blindfolds,” Cas hisses, pulling it off. She mentally kicks herself when she realizes she’s leaning into his brief touch. He smiles down at her, caressing the edge of her mouth. “I want Meg to see me when I’m here.”

A shiver of fear and something else floods her body and Meg lets out a soft whine. “Thank you.”

On some level she knows it isn’t logical. She shouldn’t be grateful. She’s being tortured and Cas is letting it happen. But Meg is _terrified_ of sensory deprivation. She’d rather _know_ what’s coming than be left completely in the dark and she can’t help but feel that Cas is demanding that the blindfold stay off for her benefit.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Cas sneaks up behind her, fully clothed as he presses up against her back as she hangs from the rack Meg nearly comes from the contact alone. She’s been without a touch she enjoyed _at all_ for too long. Alastair has just finished roasting and whipping her bare feet and breaking her kneecaps, so having Cas close to her is an instant relief, a balm to her feet and soul. She can ride the pain now that he’s here. She can almost pretend he’s here to comfort her and not for darker and far kinkier reasons.

“You look so beautiful when you’re hurting,” Cas rasps in her ear, nipping at it.

“Please,” Meg whispers. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. She has no clue if she _did_ know that Cas would even give it to her.

Even at his worst Cas is nothing in comparison to the monster that is Alastair. Cas wants her to _like_ his touches, she’s pretty sure anyway, while Alastair wants her to associate him with pain and fear.

Cas drags his fingers along the bare flesh of her belly then further down to her damaged legs. “I can put you back together. I can make you whole again.”

“Not for long,” Meg croaks. “So what’s the point? He’ll be back.”

“Yes,” Cas admits. “It’s his job to break you so he must come back.”

“What’s _your_ job?” Anger seeps into Meg’s voice and she mentally kicks herself, cringing. Because what if she’s just pissed Cas off and he leaves? The very thought has her throat tightening, panic welling up inside her. “Sorry. I just mean… I don’t understand why you’re even here.”

“Do you remember what I told you all those years ago?”

She searches her brain, frowning as she combs through every detail she can think of. “I don’t know. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“I said I’d come visit you in Hell. I mean it. Because you’re mine. You’ve been mine a long time,” Cas murmurs in reply, giving Meg a love bite. “I still have demon deals to collect and souls to corrupt - but I greatly enjoy stopping by to see how you’re faring.”

She shivers. “Oh. Well, not I'm not doing great, Cas.”

“As to be expected. It’s an… adjustment period.”

Meg lets out a bark of laughter. “Right. An adjustment period. Jesus fuck. Not the word choice I’d use, but okay.”

Cas is quiet so long Meg thinks she’s pissed him off again.

“I’m yours too.”

It’s such a fucking random comment. What does that have to do with her adjusting to her torture? Absolutely nothing. But it seems to be something he feels the need to ruminate on and now that the words are out… yeah. She might want to hear more about this. It certainly isn’t a comment she’d even begun to anticipate. “You’re just saying that.”

“No.” Cas steps in front of her then, stroking her tear-stained cheeks. “I’ve grown to care for you. I didn’t think that was possible for me. Not anymore.”

“Spare me the chick flick moment,” Meg says, but her voice wavers, betraying how emotional those words have made her. “I don’t fucking understand you and I don’t think I ever will.”

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t change the fact that we belong to each other now.”

“If that’s true let me go!”

“I can’t.”

For once Meg thinks she might hear regret in his voice. “Because I need to be broken?”

“It’s more than that, Meg. So much more. When your soul twists and you go dark you can do whatever you like. Until then… you get the rack.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Cas shows up and Alastair is done torturing her for the day he scoops up her blood and strokes it along his cock, making her breath hitch in revulsion and interest. There really is no denying the warmth that floods her belly knowing Cas is going to use her blood to get himself off so she doesn’t bother trying.

Maybe this is the beginning of the end, maybe she’s been headed down that path of depravity for a while but now she truly _feels_ it each time Cas fucks into his fist.

Meg licks her lips. “You know, it’s pretty boring that all I get to do is hang around and watch while you play with yourself. Why don’t you let me down so I can help you for a couple minutes?”

Cas smirks at her, the bastard. “No. I can play with _you_ but you don’t get to touch me just yet.”

Meg scowls. “This really sucks. After the bullshit I’ve been through today I deserve a damn distraction.”

“You’ll have the rest of forever soon enough.”

Fair point. A point she didn’t particularly care for, but it is there all the same.

“What if I offer to torture someone? Can I get down then?”

That seems to set Cas right over the edge because he comes as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

“That is how it works, yes,” Cas replies, trying to catch his breath. He sucks the come off his fingers, staring at her as he cleans off each one. “But we know you’re not there yet. You’re just trying to avoid pain by any means necessary. You aren’t interested in hurting a human soul, not yet. I can get you off if you’d like though, Meg.”

Meg wonders who Cas means by ‘we’. If it’s Alastair or some unknown demon she’s yet to meet. She itches to ask but maybe it’s best not to know.

“Don’t bother.”

Cas shrugs, leaning in to kiss her sweaty forehead and is gone - just like that.

 

* * *

 

 

“How is my songbird today?”

If Meg’s hands were free to do with as she pleased, she’d flip Alastair off. Instead, all she can really do is scowl and try to kick him.

“Don’t touch me! And stop calling me that.”

This part is still a struggle for her. She’s disobedient up until he starts the planned torture session for the day then her tune shifts to begging him to stop. It’s embarrassing. But she’d like to see anyone else handle it better. Meg doesn’t think they can.

Alastair shakes his head, mock surprise on his face. “Thought you learned by now, little bird. I get whatever I want.”

Meg frowns, stomach twisting and then does her best to tune him out because there’s honestly only so much of his bullshit that she can take.

Alastair chooses that moment to spread her thighs further apart and press between them. He’s never shown a sexual interest in her before so she’s not sure why his approach has shifted.

“No! What are you doing? Help, someone please -”

Alastair backhands her. “Don’t be stupid. You’re in Hell. No one is interested in saving you, not here.”

She tries to knee him in the crotch but he easily avoids it and hits her again. Then she spits on him, satisfaction welling up inside her when he’s covered in blood from her mouth because of how hard he’d hit her. Serves him right.

“I’ll teach you.”

Alastair turns toward his toys, grabbing the blindfold she hates so desperately.

“No, not that!”

It’d be so much worse if she couldn’t see. Any bravado on her face melts off when he brings the blindfold over to her, taunting her with it.

“I’ll be good, I swear. Just don’t put that thing on me -”

Alastair doesn’t listen, of course. When he ties the blindfold around her head and Meg is surrounded by darkness she breaks down, unable to stop the flow of tears.

His hands are back on her thighs, pushing them apart roughly. “You thought you wouldn’t be used as a cocksock, didn’t you?”

Meg doesn’t answer with words. She starts struggling again, trying to keep his hands off her but it’s useless.

“Answer me, songbird. Or I’ll crush your pretty fingers with a thumbscrew one by one. And I won’t stop there.”

Fear makes her body run cold. She knows if she keeps him waiting he’ll take what he wants anyway _and_ punish her first. She’s not too keen on physical torture _and_ rape on the same day. Separately, maybe she can handle it, but together? It could very well be her undoing.

“I thought I wouldn’t be raped,” she admitted.

“I was told not to touch you but Castiel doesn’t seem to understand how important this missing component is,” the demon replies, unfazed by her word choice. And of course he wouldn’t be, given the fact he was a demon. She shouldn’t expect anything else.

Time to try a different tactic.

“So you’re disobeying orders?”

“He’ll come to understand.”

“I don’t think he will. He says I belong to him. I don’t think he’d appreciate someone else using me for their sexual pleasure. I bet he’d see it as a _betrayal_. Isn’t he higher up on the totem pole than you are, Alastair? What if he decided to hurt you, hmm?”

Something is forcefully shoved into her mouth, a metal ring with legs. There are straps attached that buckle it into place. She can’t close her mouth and she can’t speak, so logic tells her she is being forced to wear an invasive gag.

_Weird._

Doesn’t Alastair call her his songbird because he enjoys the noises she makes when he tortures her? Hope swells inside her, she can’t help it. If what she said struck a nerve that means Cas might be more than simply angry.

“No more talking. You’re distracting me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut tight behind the blindfold, preparing herself - but his touch doesn’t come.

Instead, she can hear screaming. It’s coming from Alastair.

“I told you not to touch her _like that_ ,” Cas hisses.

Alastair chokes on something being forced down his throat then keeps screaming. Whatever Cas is making him drink hurts.

Good.

“I only wished to make her more pliable for you, Castiel,” Alastair gasps. Each word is slow and pained.

_Maybe Cas got a hold of some salt and holy water._

She knows Cas is far more powerful than most demons and doesn’t have the same weaknesses they do.

“You failed,” Cas says simply, snapping his fingers and then Alastair is no more.

The gag is taken out of her mouth first. “What -”

“He’s dead,” Cas says, removing the blindfold next. “You’re safe.”

Alastair is now nothing but a pile of dust.

“Neat trick… but I’m only safe from him.”

Cas frowns at her. “You’re mine,” he finally says, stroking his fingers along her naked skin. “Because of this, you have nothing to fear. No one will repeat Alastair’s idiotic decision.”

“Sure, Cas. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Seriously, what are you thinking? Torture and rape are commonplace here.”

Cas rolls his eyes then kisses the edge of her mouth. It sucks some of the fight out of her, making her press closer to him and crave him despite the fact she is still on the rack. “It’s over now. Does that help at all?”

“He was an inadequate torturer anyway,” Meg lies, winking at Cas because she knows this comment will turn him on.

She isn’t disappointed.

He groans, eyes flashing yellow for a moment. “He’s head torturer. That simply isn’t possible.”

“He never scalped me, never mutilated my cunt, never choked me… it was pretty mild, Cas.”

Cas licks his lips, unfastening her ankles and wrists from the metal rack then moves out of the way so she can get off. “Can you feel it? You’re turning into a demon.”

“What? No fucking way.” Meg still feels like Meg for the most part. She decides to keep that tidbit of information to herself though in case Cas decides she needs a longer stint on the rack.

“What happens now?” Meg asks, rubbing her chafed wrists. They ache but she knows it won’t be long before her body is fully restored again.

“Demon deals, chaos, blood, and sex. Whatever you’d like,” Cas says with a wicked grin.

“Sex sounds like a good place to start.”

Cas reaches out, taking Meg’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg thought that after getting ripped apart by hellhounds she’d never want one as a pet - but she was wrong and she does. She names her hellhound Ruby, after her sister that she misses dearly. Ruby is a good girl that can’t wait to tear into people and drag them to Hell. Afterward, she always comes home to Meg, wagging her tail.

“Good job, sweetheart,” Meg says, sparing a few minutes to pet her each time.

Meg avoids making demon deals at first and even when she does she spaces it out as much as she thinks she can get away with. They remind her of another time and it wasn’t that long ago that she was human - these memories aren’t her favorite even though Cas was the end result.

To his credit, Cas tries to be patient with her but it’s obvious he’s struggling with her weird behavior. They live topside in a tiny house, next to a lake. Before now, she’s never fished but it seems like too good of a thing to waste. So she does. She fishes and eats all the salty french fries she can get her hands on - a treat she adores that is completely Ruby’s fault.

She’s laying in the freshly cut grass when Cas comes over, blocking out the rays from the sun. “There’s someone you need to come see back at the house.”

Meg frowns, quickly pulling her shirt over her head. “Okay?”

“The King of Hell.”

“Why?” she asks, shimmying into her shorts. “I’m not really dressed for the occasion.”

“He wants to meet you. What the King wants, he gets. And I doubt he’ll care about the informal wear. Go. I’ll stay out here and play with Ruby for a bit before joining you.”

“Fine.” Meg’s stomach clenches and she nods, Alastair’s sadistic smile flitting through her mind, an unwanted memory. He’s dead and yet she knows he’s marked her forever.

She takes a deep, cleansing breath and makes her way back to her house, legs buckling when her eyes find the King of Hell in her living room. “Sam?”

He’s wearing a white suit splattered with blood, his smile slow and hungry. She catches a glimpse of the Sam she once knew in his eyes but he’s hard to find. She wonders if this is how she’d come across to her loved ones. If she’d be this terrifying to them.

“Hey, Meg.”

“Any particular reason why you’re here? I mean, Cas said you wanted to meet me… but you had to already know who I am, so it’s gotta be more than that.”

Sam raises a brow. “I can’t stop by and visit an old friend?"

Meg shifts uncomfortably on her feet when Sam steps a foot or two closer. “Well, I mean, yeah. You can, obviously. But we haven’t been close in years. So. What do you need? What’s going on?”

His smile grows, stroking the book _Flowers in the Attic_ that he’d grabbed off her bookshelf while waiting for her to arrive. “Demon deals aren’t cutting it for you, are they?”

“They’re okay,” Meg says, doing her best to keep her response cool, not giving away too much. Showing weakness around the King of Hell, even if he used to be a good friend, is a terrible idea. Never know what may be used against you.

Sam chuckles. “I don’t blame you for disliking it. It’s way beyond Cas’s pay grade and yet he insists it’s the job he wants.”

Meg shrugs. “He likes fucking with people.”

“As a demon should. What if I told you I want to give you more than that? So much more.”

“What exactly does ‘so much more’ entail, Sam? Not saying I don’t trust you but…”

A lie. She doesn’t.

Sam puts the book back down and lays his hand on her shoulder. “I know how you work, Meg. I know how smart you are. And, given our history, I trust you. You’re a much-needed ally.”

“Are you in trouble, Sam?”

“Not quite. But I’d rather it not get to that point. In the past, there’s only been one ruler of Hell which has led to some messy situations. I think we could cut back on those if there were multiple rulers,” he says, giving her a meaningful look.

Meg swallows thickly when she gets what he’s implying. “You… can’t be fucking serious. Me?”

“You and Cas,” Sam clarifies. “Cas is… well.” Sam smiles and it’s terrifyingly sweet. Obviously, he has some fond memories attached to her lover. “He made me what I am. Without him, becoming the King of Hell wouldn’t have been possible to begin with. I have his blood inside me. He… he _chose_ me. I battled other Special Children who’d been given Cas’s blood as infants in Cold Oak and I _won_ , Meg. I killed them all.”

“That’s why your personality shifted in Stanford, huh? It’s why you and Jess broke up and your grades tanked.”

Sam nods. “Got a taste of Brady’s blood. He was sent to look after me but we ended up getting… close. Kinda kickstarted everything.”

“Jesus Christ. I should have fucking known -”

“Stop,” Sam commands, squeezing her shoulder. “What’s done is done.”

“You and Cas aren't…” She can’t say it. Just the thought of them together makes her terribly jealous because Cas is _hers_.

“Fucking?” Sam laughs. “No, Meg. He’s all yours. Cas is like a father to me. That’d be a little weird to fuck your dad, right?”

“We’re demons,” Meg says, as if he needs reminding. “Like incest is gonna stop us.”

“Do you _want_ me to fuck him?”

“No!”

“So don’t worry about it,” Sam says, like it’s that easy, like the history the three of them have isn’t all twisted and complicated. He lifts a hand to ghost his fingers over her cheek. “Go get Cas. We’ve got work to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos give me life. :)  
> I'm samanddeaninpanties on Tumblr if you wanna chat!


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